A Justified Holiday Trilogy
by AndItsOuttaHere
Summary: A trio of holiday fics moving the story forward from the end of S4.
1. Chapter 1

This is part one of A Justified Holiday Trilogy. It is totally separate from my other ongoing story _It's Complicated_. This one follows more closely with the events in S4 and the info we've heard about the upcoming S5.

The birth of his daughter has had a profound effect on Marshal Givens.

**A Justified Holiday Trilogy**

**Part 1: A Justified Thanksgiving**

He hated these things.

Gayle's house was full to bursting with thirty or so guests. As soon as he arrived, Winona handed him their daughter and disappeared into the kitchen to help her sister with the turkey, abandoning him to the living room full of strangers.

It was hell. Everyone else knew each other and there were shrieking children everywhere. All he wanted in the world was a drink of good strong Kentucky bourbon, but since they were at Gayle's, there was none to be had. He wished he'd thought to bring a flask.

He shifted Franny to his other shoulder, patted his baby girl's back and whispered in her ear. "How 'bout you and me blow this joint?"

Her huge blue eyes met his and she smiled a wet baby smile, drool dribbling down her chin onto his shirt.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

It was too cold to take her outside, so he wandered out of the crowded living room and down the hall, taking refuge in Peter's den. It didn't look much like a man's domain today. More like someone had bombed a _Babies 'R Us_. Franny's supplies dominated the room and Winona's suitcase sat open on the top of the large oak desk. Raylan kicked aside two stuffed animals and a box of diapers and sank gratefully into the leather recliner by the window.

He lay Franny on his chest and she stretched her neck up to look at him. "Hey there," he said. "You're my girl. You know that?"

"Gah!" Franny shrieked.

"Shhh," he warned. "Don't get too loud or someone'll find us and I'll have to share you again." Franny was the youngest grandchild/niece/cousin in Winona's family and they'd played pass the baby all afternoon. Right now he wanted his baby girl all to himself.

Winona's trip back to Kentucky for Thanksgiving was a last minute decision. Raylan wasn't even sure if it was _her_ decision. Her mother had wanted to come, and from what he remembered, Madeline Sawyer usually got her way. Like mother like daughter. No wonder they butted heads. He didn't really care why Winona was here, it meant time with his daughter and there had been way too little of that in the six months since she was born.

Franny gave a sigh and closed her eyes. One thumb went into her mouth and the fingers of the other hand dug into his shirt.

"You wore out? I don't blame you. You go right ahead and take a nap. I bet there's a game on." He reached for the remote. "I'll keep the volume down so you can sleep."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"There you are."

He started at the voice and looked up into another familiar pair of blue eyes. Winona smiled and held out her arms for the baby. "Dinner's almost ready. I thought I'd nurse her first so she won't fuss while we're eating."

He couldn't help but notice that while the pregnancy had left her fuller, softer around the edges, any baby weight she'd gained was gone. She looked good and he fought the urge to stare as she pushed a blanket to the side and sat on the love seat across from him, unbuttoning her blouse unselfconsciously . Franny turned her head, latching on, one hand grabbing at her mother's hair as she nursed.

"I saw she's gettin' a tooth on the bottom there," Raylan said. "It's cute."

Winona grimaced. "Not so cute when she bites. Or when she's screaming at two a.m."

"I suppose not." His eyes slid sideways to the open suitcase. He ran his tongue under his bottom lip, hesitating. "How long you stayin'?"

Winona kept her gaze on Franny and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I'm not sure. Mama's making noises about stayin' through Christmas." She looked up and rolled her eyes. "I think Gayle may be breaking out in hives just thinking about it."

Christmas with his daughter. He pushed the thought away. Not a good idea to get his hopes up.

Winona shifted the baby to the other side. "How long have you been squirreled away in here?"

It was his turn to shrug. "'Bout an hour, I guess. Your cousin...what's her name? The one with the big..."

"Valerie." Winona said. "And they aren't real."

He grinned. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

Winona slipped a sleepy Franny into the crook of her arm and buttoned up her blouse with one hand. "What about her?"

"She kept cornerin' me."

Winona raised an eyebrow. "And..."

"Franny doesn't like her."

Winona shook her head. "You don't like her. Which is fine with me." She pressed her lips together. "I don't like her much either."

"I just hope I'm not sittin' next to her at dinner."

"No, Cowboy, you're sitting next to me." She rose, shifting Franny to her hip.

"Well, okay then," he said, pushing up out of the chair. "Let's go eat some turkey."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

He'd suffered through dinner, but when Franny began to fuss as the plates were being cleared, he scooped up his daughter along with a piece of pie and retreated back to the den. Winona followed just in time to see him stop the baby's fussing with a sweet treat.

"Did you just give that baby whipped cream?"

Raylan yanked his finger out of Franny's mouth. She looked up at him and smacked her lips. "M-m-m-m-mmmm," she hummed, reaching out for the retreating finger.

Winona shook her head. "You did, didn't you?"

"It was just a smidgen." He swiped his finger through the cream on his slice of pumpkin pie and grinned at her. "I think she liked it." He licked the whipped cream off and took a forkful of pie.

"Of course she liked it, Raylan, that's not the point." Winona kicked her heels off and stooped to pick up a stuffed duck off the floor. She tossed it in the pack-and-play and plopped the baby down inside. "I haven't started giving her dairy yet."

"How would I know that?" He sighed. "It was just a tiny bit of whipped cream." He set the unfinished pie down.

The duck let out a strangled quack as Franny grabbed it and squeezed. Winona smiled down at her.

"What does she eat? Besides..." He poked a finger at Winona's chest.

Her gazed turned to him. "Well, so far she's had bananas, applesauce, and some cereal. She loves the bananas and applesauce. The cereal, not so much. She spit most of that out. And she tried some sweet potatoes today." The duck came sailing out of the pen landing at Winona's feet.

"You silly," she said to the baby. She made a face, squeaking the duck and Franny reached up for it while Raylan watched, a slow grin spreading across his face.

'"You're doin' a great job."

"Mama helps," Winona said. "But sometimes she gets a little overbearing."

"Your mother? Really? That's hard to believe." Raylan's eyes twinkled. "Things are safe around here now. You and Franny could always move back. If you want to get away from your mama, that is. 'Course, you've got that new job down there and all."

Winona bit her lip. "Well..." She twisted a corner of Franny's blanket. "I kinda quit."

He took a deep breath. "Why? I thought you liked it."

"It was only part time anyway," she said. She spread the blanket out over her lap and folded it, tossing it onto the end table. "It wasn't court reporting, I was just helping out in the office. And I wasn't really doing anything but shuffling papers around."

He looked down, trying to think of something he could say next that wouldn't get him into trouble.

"I told you you didn't have to go back to work yet anyway. Between the money I'm sendin' you and the insurance from Gary..."

"I'm trying to save some of that for a place of our own."

"Where at?" It came out before he could stop it.

Winona folded her hands in her lap and leveled her eyes at him.

"Have you talked to Judge Reardon lately?"

"I saw him in the elevator once or twice. He asked about you and the baby," he said. "Why?"

"He called me a couple of weeks ago."

"At your mama's?"

"On my cell phone, Raylan, the number hasn't changed."

"What did he want?"

"He said I was the best court reporter he's ever had and asked what it would take for me to come back."

"And you said?"

"You're sure you didn't talk to him?" She crossed one leg over the other and studied his face carefully.

"You think I asked Reardon to butter you up so you'd come back?" He huffed. "Have I bugged you at all about it? I've come down as much as I could to see you and Franny and I haven't said one word."

Winona shook her head. "It just seems strange, him calling out of the blue." She stood, scooping Franny up out of the pen and taking a sniff.

"Ewww! Someone is stinky!" She rubbed noses with the baby, smiling. "Someone needs her diaper changed."

Holding Franny to her with one hand, she grabbed a clean diaper from the box and headed for the hallway bathroom. Raylan followed.

"What else did he say?"

"He said if I got my realtime certification from NCRA this winter I could start back at level 3 on the salary scale. That's a lot of money. More than I was making before."

She pulled off Franny's tiny tights and undid the diaper. "Uh-oh," she said. "This is a major blow-out. Could you go grab a clean outfit out of the suitcase? Her stuff is on top."

"Probably the sweet potatoes," he chuckled. In the den, he grabbed the first thing he saw, a red dress with snowflakes on it.

Winona shook her head and laughed when he held it out to her. "That's the Christmas dress Gayle got her, Raylan. Just bring me a sleeper. There's a yellow one in there. It has feet in it."

He sifted through and found it. By the time he got back to the bathroom, Winona had Franny cleaned up and diapered. The baby kicked her legs and waved her arms when she saw her daddy.

"Here." He handed Winona the sleeper and watched her as she dressed the baby. "You sure you wanna go back to full time? Wouldn't you miss her?"

"I wouldn't be full time, at first, and I wouldn't be making that salary right away. I'd have to take some courses." She slipped past him and walked back into the office, plopping Franny back into the pack and play with the stuffed duck.

"I've checked it out. Some of them are online, which is perfect, and I can get the rest at UK."

He stood in the doorway and stared at the playpen, watching Franny try to cram the entire duck into her mouth. Unsuccessful, she settled for just the head, gumming it happily.

"I could see her a lot more often," he said.

"Yes, Raylan, that occurred to me." She was smiling now, the smile he was never sure of. Was she happy? Or did she simply find him amusing?

"So," he said, finally. "Are you gonna do it?"

"I'm thinking about it. I'd need to find a place to live and someone to watch Franny while I'm working or at school. Just part time at first, but eventually it would be more."

"Rachel's mama watches Nelson's kids over school breaks."

"Could you check with her? Or ask Rachel if she'd be willing and how much it would cost?"

"Sure, I'll talk to Rachel Monday."

"You won't forget?"

He tapped his temple. "I got it right here. I won't forget."

"Okay." Winona reached into the diaper bag. "I'm going to go warm up a bottle I pumped earlier. You wanna feed her before she goes to sleep?"

"Sure."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

He held Franny in the crook of his arm and set the empty bottle down beside the recliner. The baby sighed and pursed her lips as her eyes fluttered closed.

Winona leaned over his shoulder. "I know that sigh. She's out for good. You can put her on her back in the pack-and-play. She's been sleeping in there while we're here."

Raylan didn't move or look up.

"Gayle made coffee if you want some."

"Coffee sounds good," he said softly.

"Okay." She turned at the doorway. "You coming?" When he didn't respond she walked back over, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You've missed a lot of this, haven't you?"

He nodded, not taking his eyes off his sleeping daughter.

"I'm sorry."

"Not totally your fault." He tilted his head back and gave her a pensive smile.

"True," she said. "But I'm glad it's going to be different." She lifted her hand from his shoulder and ran it through his hair. "I'll get you that coffee."

"Thanks." He ran a finger over Franny's dark hair, so like his own. "Looks like you and me are gonna get to know each other better." He bent his head and kissed her forehead. "I can't wait."


	2. Chapter 2: Christmas

_A/N Here it is. A day late, but hopefully not a dollar short. Enjoy! One more fic to come._

Judge Reardon shook his head as Winona walked away from them. "My oh my, that is one damn beautiful woman. And one fine dress." He blew out a breath. "Goddamn." He took a long drink of bourbon. "That baby's what? Six - seven months old? You hittin' that yet? 'Cause if you're not you oughta be." He wiped his brow with a hanky from his pocket and signaled the bartender for a refill.

Raylan dipped his head and bit his tongue, taking a gulp of his own drink. He was not '_hittin' that_', and didn't suppose he would be any time soon, although he and Winona were getting along much better than he anticipated. Parenting Franny together seemed to be bringing out the best in both of them. The baby was the hit of the office when her mother brought her for a visit, and he'd spent more than one night since Thanksgiving at Gayle's, tucked away in Peter's den with his daughter, giving Winona several much needed opportunities to Christmas shop and catch up on sleep.

The judge was right. Winona did look incredible tonight. The short red dress revealed her slim legs and the deep v-neck put her baby-enhanced cleavage on display. She caught his stare across the room, and rolled her eyes, smiling over her shoulder at him from the gaggle of secretaries and court reporters. He knew she hated this almost as much as he did, but you didn't skip Judge Reardon's annual holiday party, especially if he was going out of his way to help you secure a new position.

The Judge startled Raylan with an elbow in the ribs and jabbed his hand with the drink in it toward the doorway, golden liquor sloshing. "Look who's here," he said. "Your sniper buddy...goddammit...what's his name?"

"Tim. Tim Gutterson," Raylan said, wondering how in the world the younger marshal had gotten the invite. That question was answered when Tim's arm angled out, holding the door open for a striking redhead in a shimmery silver dress with a short hemline showing off legs to rival Winona's.

"Gaby!" The Judge called. He slid off the barstool, surprisingly agile for his size and amount of alcohol consumption, and swept her up in a hug, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She extricated herself graciously. "Hello, Judge."

Raylan raised an eyebrow at Tim, surprised when the sniper blushed. He quickly approached, leaning on the bar and calling to the bartender. "A shot of your best bourbon on the rocks and a glass of Malbac."

"Already know her drink, huh?" Raylan hissed in his ear. "You been keepin' secrets."

"Not everyone puts their private life on public display like you," Tim muttered.

"Raylan," Judge Reardon clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'd like you to meet my new law clerk Gabrielle Kinnett. Graduated top of her class from Vanderbilt. I had a list a mile long of applicants but once I saw her picture it was no contest. I'd rather look at this everyday than some skinny guy in a suit from Men's Warehouse. Wouldn't you?" Without waiting for an answer he went on. "Gabrielle, meet Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens. Man's a legend around here."

"Tim's mentioned you once or twice," Gaby said, her smile bright.

Raylan tipped his hat and his eyes slid sideways to Tim. "I'm sure he has."

"What're you doin' here?" Tim said, his voice low as he passed the glass of wine to Gabrielle. "I thought you hated these things."

Raylan shrugged. "Winona didn't want to come alone."

"Or you didn't want Winona to come alone."

"I got no claim on her." He took a sip of his bourbon and set the glass down. "We're just co-parenting."

"You keep on telling yourself that," Tim said with his trademark smirk. "Liar."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Sitting with all your friends, Cowboy?" Blue eyes twinkling. Winona slid onto the empty stool next to his, her skirt riding up as she crossed one leg over the other. He pretended not to notice.

He glanced at his watch. "You 'bout ready?"

Winona stifled a yawn. "Yeah, I think we've put in our time. I should be getting back to Franny."

Judge Reardon stepped up to the bar, slapping Raylan on the back and slinging his other arm around Winona.

"You need another drink?" He asked, waving the bartender over.

"We were just about to go," Raylan said, catching Winona's eye.

"Yes," she jumped in. "Rachel's mom is watching Franny and we need to pick her up."

"Oh come now," the judge tsked. "I'm sure that baby is just fine. Probably sleepin'. Have another drink." He gestured to the bartender. "An Amarreto and Bailey's on the rocks for the lady and a double shot of Woodford for me and my friend the Marshal here."

"You want whipped cream on that?" The bartender asked.

"Not the bourbon," the judge said. He winked at Winona. "You'll like this." He dipped his head to Raylan's. "It's called a Blow Job. She's gonna love it."

Seemingly oblivious, Winona fished in her purse, pulled out lipstick and refreshed the bright red tint on her mouth.

The bartender sat the drinks down in front of them and Winona looked at hers warily. "I think I'd rather just have a beer."

"Oh, go ahead, try it," Judge Reardon encouraged.

Raylan watched as Winona took a sip, the white of the cream standing out against her red lips.

She licked the cream off and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened. "Ummm," she said. "This is yummy."

For the second time that night, the judge's elbow slammed into Raylan's ribs, this time hard enough to make the breath go out of him. "Toldja," the judge said, gleefully. "You can thank me later. Now where did my clerk and your buddy get off to?" Finding his quarry, he made for one of the tables scattered around the large living room where Tim and Gaby sat.

"That was really good," Winona said, running her finger around the lip of the glass and licking off the remnants. "What did he say it was called?" A raise of her eyebrow and the upward curve of her mouth clued him in that she knew damn well what the drink was called. She pressed her shoulder against him. "You oughta try one."

He raised his glass. "No thanks, I'll stick with bourbon."

"Maybe I wasn't talkin' about the drink." She snaked a hand up his thigh and he clamped his over it.

Raylan couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Winona even the slightest bit tipsy. She liked her beer, but hardly ever had more than one or two, or a glass of wine with dinner, and not even that since she'd gotten pregnant. Tonight she'd had two beers, but the drink Judge Reardon had ordered for her had put her over the edge.

"I think it's time to pick up Franny and get you home."

"You're no fun," she pouted.

"Let's at least get out of here, okay?"

"Now you're talkin' Cowboy."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Here we go," Raylan said, easing Winona down into the seat of the Lincoln. He handed her the shoes she'd kicked off in the entryway.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him. She fumbled in her purse for her cellphone. "I'd better call Rachel's mom and let her know we're on our way."

Raylan tugged the phone from her hand. "Let's wait. You need to sober up a little and I wanna show you something first anyways."

Winona cocked her head, curious, watching him as he maneuvered the car past the long line of other vehicles parked in Judge Reardon's driveway. Her gaze stayed on him as he turned out onto the road that twisted along with woods on one side and picked up speed.

"What?" He said after a few minutes.

"Nothing." She returned her eyes to the road. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Winona was quiet as he drove and he glanced over more than once to make sure she hadn't passed out. They passed through the next development, stopping just short of the UK campus where he took another turn onto a wide tree-lined street. Quite a few of the houses were decorated with colored lights and Christmas trees glittered in most of the windows, but the house he slowed in front of was illuminated only by a security light.

He shifted into park and leaned across Winona, pointing. "Guy who lived here worked at a local brokerage house. He got nabbed for securities fraud last summer. Property went to the feds and now it's up for auction."

Winona shifted in the seat to look at him. "And..."

He shrugged. "I put in a bid. Arlo's place sold and I need to do something with the money."

"So you're buying a house?"

"Well, I need a place to live and..." he paused, fingering the brim of the hat in his lap. "So do you, plus someone has to watch Franny while you take those classes and study. I thought we could live here together. You me an' Franny."

She flushed. "Raylan...I..."

"Now, hear me out." He held up a finger. "We'll forget about the fact that you were just throwin' yourself at me back there. This has nothin' to do with that, okay?"

"Okay." She nodded, sobering.

"One," he said, ticking it off on his fingers. "You need a place here in Lexington for you and Franny. Two," another finger came up. "I gotta get out from above that bar or you're never gonna let me take her home with me. Three, this place has a master suite on one side and two nice sized bedrooms on the other, plus a finished basement with a kitchenette and another bedroom. We wouldn't even have to see each other if we don't want. I think we could manage."

"You want us to be roomies?" She smiled and shook her head, her dangling earrings catching the light. "How exactly is that supposed to work?"

She had a point, especially considering her earlier flirtation. He shrugged. "I don't know. But we could try."

"It would've been nice to talk about this before you bought it."

"It was too good a deal to pass up," he huffed. "And there might be other bids, I haven't gotten it yet. I'm tryin' to help out here. I wanna be there for Franny and this seemed like a good idea."

"I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help." She reached out, a soft hand cupping his cheek. "It's sweet of you." Leaning in, she gave him a soft peck on the lips. "I need some time to think about it."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The choir was softly humming 'Silent Night' as he walked into the church. Gayle's head turned and Peter gave him a thumbs up when he slipped into the empty space beside Winona, sliding his hat off and hanging it on the post of the pew in front of them.

Winona gave the dripping hat a glance then shook her head.

"Sorry I'm late. It's pouring out there," he whispered. "The drive took longer than I thought."

He poked Franny with a finger and she gave him a grin. Twisting in her mother's lap, she held out her arms to him, and he took her, just as the minister's voice asked them all to rise.

Franny gave a shriek and several other worshipers glanced over their shoulders.

"Turn her around," Winona whispered. "She likes to face forward."

He switched the baby's position, holding her to him with one hand around her middle, and she quieted.

"They took my bid. I got the house," he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Winona didn't respond.

There was a song, then a prayer, then another song. It had been a long time since he'd been in church and after a few minutes, Raylan gave up trying to follow the service. He stood when told, sat when told, listened to the familiar hymns, but mostly he watched his daughter. Her bright eyes darted this way and that, seeing all the lights and decorations for the first time. She kicked her feet and reached for them, tugging at the tiny black patent leather shoes and grunting.

"I don't think she likes those shoes." He pulled one off and Franny shrieked again.

Winona smiled and held her hand out for the shoe. "Give it here." She pulled the other off and the baby kicked her legs in their white tights and wiggled her toes happily. Winona stooped, tucking the shoes into the diaper bag at her feet.

The familiar Christmas story was read from the Gospel of Luke and the sermon began. As the minister droned on, Franny fussed. "It'll be over soon," he said, leaning down, whispering in her ear. "Daddy's bored, too."

"Raylan!" Winona hissed. But she was smiling.

The sermon over, an usher passed candles down the row. As the choir hummed, the candles were lit, one from another, and the church lights dimmed. Flickering candlelight up and down the rows gave the church an other-worldly glow as the congregation began to sing. _"Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright..." _

He watched Franny's face, lit by the flame of Winona's candle. However much they had screwed up that love between them, this baby was a chance to do things right. As the singing stopped, Winona leaned into him, slipping her free hand into his. "That's good news," she murmured. "About the house. When can we move in?"

He glanced at her and she smiled. "Merry Christmas, Raylan."

He squeezed her hand gently and kissed the top of his baby girl's head. "Merry Christmas."  
And it was.


	3. And a Happy New Year

A Justified New Year's Eve

Raylan locked the door of Art's office behind him. At the last minute, he remembered to turn off the coffee maker in the break room before he left. Tim and Rachel were long gone, her off to chaperone a youth lock-in at her church, and Tim to whatever celebration he might have planned, or not. Nelson was on holiday duty with Raylan and the Bowling Green office had sent over a wet-behind-the-ears newbie named Sherman Jones to help out. Raylan sent them both home earlier, too. They all carried pagers, and the office was empty on this New Year's Eve.

He'd planned on spending this New Year's Eve with Winona and Franny, but she was still at Gayle's for the evening, watching all the kids so that her sister could have a night out with her husband.

"It's the least I can do, since she's put up with us for the last month," she said over the phone earlier. "You're welcome to come over and keep me company if you want."

"Would you be disappointed if I didn't?"

"No, I'll probably fall asleep by nine," Winona said, chuckling. "Long day?"

"Yeah." He pushed the elevator button and leaned against the wall."

"How's Art?"

"Feeling good enough to call and boss me around from his hospital bed."

Art's emergency triple bypass the day after Christmas had shocked and upset them all. In his absence, Raylan was acting Chief Marshal at Assistant Director Goodall's request and to Rachel's undisguised annoyance. His work load had tripled. Art was feeling well enough post-surgery to call the office three times today with instructions. Raylan spent almost the entire afternoon going over the office statistics for the past year, due to Washington next week. His head ached and numbers swam before his eyes. At least he understood Art's constant exasperation and frequent chomping of antacids a little bit more.

Winona's company aside, the thought of dealing with Gayle's two rambunctious boys and Franny's teething made a night alone quite appealing.

"How 'bout I call you at midnight?" He said.

"Alright, Cowboy. Franny and I will try to stay awake."

He hung up, slid into the front of the Lincoln, tossed his hat on the seat, and sighed. There wasn't any food at the house - he couldn't quite call it home yet since he'd just moved his meager belongings in yesterday - and for once he didn't feel like sitting in a bar. Tonight the bars would be filled with too many people, all of them either way too happy or way too sad. He was somewhere in-between for once, and he kind of liked it.

But he was also hungry.

He thought about a drive-through or take out, but nothing sounded good. Then he remembered the grill on the small patio. The people who sold the house had left it, along with a bag of charcoal in the garage. Maybe he could grill himself a nice steak. There was a bottle of Woodford reserve Nelson had given him for Christmas that begged to be opened, and at least a half-dozen post season bowl games he could watch. He'd call Winona at midnight and wish her a Happy New Year. Now that was a plan.

His cell phone chimed just as he pulled into the Piggly Wiggly. "Givens."

"Raylan," Constable Bob huffed. "Got a problem down here at Arlo's place."

"Arlo's place isn't my problem anymore, Bob. It sold."

There was more huffing. "Realtor said you haven't closed yet, so it's still your responsibility."

"What's the problem? It's New Year's Eve. Can't you take care of it for me?"

"I could I guess. Just thought you might wanna know someone ransacked the place. Any damage is gonna be up to you to fix or the sale might not go through and I know how happy you were when it sold."

"Well, shit," Raylan muttered. "I'm on my way."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Ransacked, huh?" He stood in the doorway to survey the damage, one hand on his hip. He couldn't believe he'd driven all the way down here for this. "A raccoon? How the hell did a raccoon get into the house?"

"Probably came down the chimney. That's how one got into my Aunt Elsie's place one time. Chewed the doorknob off the pantry and twisted the lids off all the jars with those freaky little hand-paws." Bob held his hands up in front of him like claws. "Ate all her apricot preserves."

"You're sure you saw him? He's still in here? Why didn't you just take care of him?"

"I don't much like raccoons, Raylan."

"I'm not askin' you to buy it a drink and take it home with you, Bob. Just shoot the damn thing." He stared at the constable and shook his head. "Come on, at least back me up here."

He made his way through the living room, baseball bat in one hand, gun in the other. After, a moment, Bob followed, several paces behind, gun drawn.

There was a skittering noise above their heads and both men looked up. Raylan pointed to the stairs. Bob hesitated.

"Where's the Constable Bob I know?" Raylan said over his shoulder. "Just pretend it's a dangerous mob henchman up there instead of a furry little forest creature."

"Raccoons can be dangerous," Bob insisted. "And they carry rabies." But Raylan heard the creak of the step as the heavy man came up the stairs behind him.

The upstairs hallway was clear and the noise had stopped. All the bedroom doors were shut. "Looks like it's all clear up here. Maybe he went out the same way he came in," Raylan said. He turned to go back downstairs, but Bob blocked his way, standing frozen on the top step.

"R-r-raylan," he stuttered. As he lifted his arm to point, the raccoon launched itself from the banister where it was perched, flying past Bob's head. Before Raylan could raise his gun, sharp claws grazed his cheek and Bob screamed and fell backward, pinning him to the floor.

"Get off me," Raylan squawked. He elbowed Bob, who tumbled off. Then he rolled onto his stomach, aimed as best he could, and took a shot. The bullet buried itself in the baseboard sending wood chips flying, and the raccoon bumped against one of the bedroom doors which creaked open.

"I gotcha now you little bastard." Raylan scrambled to his feet and went after the animal.

"You're bleedin'," Bob called after him. "He didn't bite ya, did he? I've heard those shots hurt like a bitch."

"It's just a scratch," Raylan said. "Goddammit! Where'd he go?"

In the room, the closet door was open slightly. "He's gotta be in there, Bob. You open the door and I'll shoot him."

"Why don't you open the door and I'll shoot him?"

"I'm a better shot."

"You missed him back there."

"Bob," Raylan's tone carried a warning.

"Okay, okay." Bob inched his way across the floor and reached out for the doorknob. He eased the door open and Raylan fired. A cloud of feathers exploded into the room and a blur of fur shot past them both out into the hallway.

"Sonofabitch!"

Bob held up the tattered remnants. "You sure shot the hell out of this here pillow, Raylan."

"Shut up, Bob." Raylan stalked out into the hall, grabbing the bat he'd left leaning against the wall. The raccoon stared up at him from the corner, chattering, its tiny paws in front of its face.

"What are you waiting for," Bob asked from behind him. "Shoot it!"

Raylan raised his gun, but hesitated and brought the bat up instead. "Shoo!" He yelled. "Go on, get out!"

The animal's reaction was to drop down to all four paws and hiss. Bob shoved Raylan out of the way and fired off a shot, missing the coon by at least a foot. It did the trick, though. The animal ran down the stairs and Raylan followed, swinging the bat over his head. The raccoon never looked back, running straight through the dining room and out the open front door. The two men stood on the porch and watched as it sat on a tree stump by Arlo's old trailer and shook its tiny fists at them.

"You could still shoot it," Bob said.

Raylan pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, peeled off five twenties and handed them to the constable. "Can you get someone to fix that chimney so this doesn't happen again?"

"Sure." Bob pocketed the cash. "And I got a couple of kids need to do some community service. I'll have them clean up the mess."

"That'd be great." Raylan yawned and glanced at his watch. "Two minutes past midnight," he said. "Happy New Year, Bob."

"Happy New Year, Raylan."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was after two when he pulled up to the dark house. He let himself in, tossed his hat on the table, and took off his jacket. The lump of blankets on the air mattress across the room shifted and a figure sat up.

"Winona?"

"What time is it?" She reached up and turned on the lamp on the rickety table.

"About two-thirty," he said. He ran a hand over his head. "What are you doing here?"

"They came home early, so I thought we'd surprise you. Where have you been?" She squinted at him. "And what happened to your face?"

He fingered the bandage he'd dug out of the first aid kit. "It's a long story. Can I have a drink while I tell you?"

She scooted off the mattress, glancing into the pack-and-play to check on Franny, and followed him to the kitchen.

"Want some?" He held up the Woodford.

"Got any beer?"

He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, popped the cap off, and handed it to her. The he poured himself a generous glass of the bourbon. "I was in Harlan."

Winona raised an eyebrow. "Of course you were." She leaned back against the counter and sipped her beer. "Do tell."

"So," Raylan swirled the last of the dark liquid in the glass as he finished his story. "I let the furry little bastard go, and Bob's gonna take care of the repairs."

"That was nice," Winona said with a smirk. "For a change."

Raylan cocked his head, questioning.

"You started the new year off _not_ killing something."

A smart retort was on the tip of his tongue, but Franny's wail from the living room cut it off. "I'll get 'er," he said instead.

He lifted Franny and held her up in the air. Usually this brought a giggle, but tonight she just kept screaming. He bounced her on the way back to the kitchen. More screams. He passed her to Winona and she settled in to nurse for a few minutes, then pushed away and screamed some more.

Winona checked the baby's diaper. "She's dry." She shook her head. "It's probably her teeth, poor thing. I don't know what to do."

"Give her here," Raylan said. He took the fussy baby, poured a finger of Woodford into his glass, and walked back into the living room, Winona on his heels.

"What're you going to do? Raylan, don't you give that baby any of that bourbon!"

"The bourbon ain't for her, it's for me. You rest. I'll walk her around."

Winona laid down, pulling Helen's old quilt around her. She propped herself up on one elbow and watched Raylan pace the floor with the baby. He walked back and forth in front of the fireplace, dipping his head every few minutes and murmuring into her ear. Eventually, Franny's screams faded into hiccuping sobs, and her head dipped to his shoulder. When she'd been quiet for awhile, he eased down beside Winona.

"Shhhh," Winona held a finger to her lips. "It's worse if she starts up again."

Raylan stretched out carefully, laying Franny on his chest. Winona shifted a pillow so the baby wouldn't roll off. She ran a hand through Raylan's hair. "I think it's going to be a very happy new year," she said, giving him a soft kiss.

"Well," he said, holding his sleeping baby girl close. "It's off to a damn good start."


End file.
